


you can leave your hat on

by empressearwig



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:51:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/pseuds/empressearwig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Lizzie wears the hat to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can leave your hat on

**Author's Note:**

> It was very late, Jim. For theepiccek, spyglass, and magisterequitum.

"Why aren't you ever me anymore?" Will asks.

They're already in bed, and Lizzie sets her Kindle down on the duvet. She turns to look at him, surprised when she sees that he's in absolute earnest about this.

"I don't know," she says slowly. "I hadn't really thought about. I suppose it feels too invasive?"

Will laughs, and the sound sends a shiver down her spine the way it never fails to. "But writing scripts and handing them to Jane or Charlotte to play, that's not?"

"Well if you're going to put it like that," she says, making a face at him. 

He's not wrong. It's a fight she's had with herself many times, the line between accurately representing her--their--life and respecting the privacy that she knows he values. 

"I don't mind," Will says, catching her chin in his hand and making her look at him. The look on her face must show that she doesn't entirely believe him, because he makes an impatient sound. "Really, Lizzie, do you think that I wouldn't tell you if I did?"

"No," she admits. 

"Therefore, I must not."

"Therefore?" she asks, raising an eyebrow at his word choice. "You're using therefore in bed?"

His grasp on her chin tightens. She likes it. "It's a good word."

"It's an excellent word," she agrees, because it is. "I'm just not sure it has any business being in the same place that we have sex."

Will presses her back down among the pillows and scrapes his teeth against her throat. "Please," he says. "We make love, Lizzie."

She bursts out laughing and he bites her shoulder in punishment. She pushes at his shoulders and he lets her roll them so that she's on top, straddling his hips. Her hair makes a curtain around their faces as she bends to kiss him.

"We'll see about that," she says, and trails her lips down his chest.

When she finally takes him in her mouth, the blue stream of cursing he lets out is extremely gratifying.

*

But in the days after he brought it up, Lizzie can't stop thinking about what Will said. For that matter, she can't stop thinking about _where_ he said it, and more than once she ends up blushing furiously in a script session with Charlotte when the newsboy cap comes out of the costume theater case. 

"What's wrong with you?" Charlotte asks finally, fond exasperation written all over face. "I've never seen you react to a prop like this before, and that includes when Lydia gave Jane a vibrator on camera."

"It was a gift for her bachelorette party," Lizzie says, the defense of Lydia both genuine and an admittedly poor diversionary tactic. 

"I know that," Charlotte says. "I also know when you're stalling. So tell me why the sight of the Darcy hat is making you turn red as a tomato, Lizzie Bennet. If you don't, I'm just going to start listing possibilities and I don't think either of us wants that."

Lizzie holds up a hand to ward her off. "No. Anything but that."

Charlotte grins, obviously pleased with herself. "I thought that would be your answer. Now start talking."

"Will asked me why I don't ever play him anymore," Lizzie starts, "and I didn't really have a good answer for him. I still don't have a good answer for him."

"So what--you've been trying to conduct a psychological assessment on yourself? Nice try, but that wouldn't turn you that particular shade of red."

"No," Lizzie says, frustrated with her inability to explain herself. "I mean, I have, but that's not what it is." She drops her eyes to the table and says the words all in a rush. "Imayhavebeenthinkingaboutwearingthehatinbed."

Charlotte doesn't say a word, but the hat inches its way across the desk until it's practically falling in Lizzie's lap.

It's the closest Lizzie's ever come to getting a non-Lydia blessing to getting her freak on. She stuffs the hat in her top drawer.

"So!" she says, as brightly as she can. "Let's talk scripts, shall we?"

*

The hat moves to the drawer in her nightstand, but she doesn't bring it up. If she's being honest with herself, Lizzie doesn't know if she would have, but Will finds it when looking for his missing phone charger and the conversation is suddenly very much not in her control.

"Lizzie," he says, sounding confused. She looks up at him from her spot on the couch and blanches. The hat is dangling from one of his fingertips and he looks puzzled. "What's this doing in here?"

"Oh," she says.

Will's eyebrows shoot straight up. "Oh?"

Lizzie sighs and marks her place in her book. She sets it to the side and pats the spot on the couch next to her. "Sit down."

"Is this one of those times you mistake me for the pet you never had?" Will asks, but does as she asks and settles beside her. His arm goes around her shoulders, like it always does now, and the hat rests where their legs are pressed together. 

She looks down at it, and then up at him, and then down at the hat again. So much wasted energy for something so utterly _stupid_. Either he'll like the idea or he won't, but she won't know unless she asks. She looks back up at him and summons her all of her resolve and says, "Will, would you like it if I wore the hat to bed?"

He blinks at her once, and then his mouth curves up into smug smile. "Lizzie Bennet," he says, her name a slow drawl against his lips. "I thought you'd never ask."

She only has the chance to hit him once before she's flat on her back and neither of them are thinking about hats or anything else for quite some time.

*

Lizzie brings the hat to bed the next night and the bowtie, too. 

Will's hands are gentle around her throat as he unhooks it, his cheek rough against her skin as he buries his face in the spot where the bowtie had been.

He curses, low and deep, and she revels in it. That she can do that to him, reduce him to that, it thrills every part of her.

She reaches up, intending to take the hat off now that it's served it's purpose, but Will's hand catches hers, brings it to his mouth. "No," he says, kissing her palm. "Leave it on. Please."

"Really?" she asks.

"Really," he answers. He presses her back against the sheets, careful to hold the hat in place as he does. "I like it."

"I can tell," she says, amused and aroused and a little astonished that a hat could have this kind of effect on him. 

"Let me show you how much," he says and his mouth descends to settle firmly between her thighs. 

Somehow, the hat stays on.


End file.
